Wonder Dummied
by TheQuiet
Summary: In a campground loo on a stormy summer night, Professor Snape comes face to face with a snivelling Harry Potter, reeling from his friends' rejection of his sexuality. Will this encounter change the Potions Master's view of the Golden Boy? Pre-Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**ONE**

_But I've never felt this feel so heavy  
><em>_And I've never felt this feel so low  
><em>_Yeah it is a wake inside my whole soul  
><em>_But you are my strength I won't stand alone  
><em>_And ask for the things you lack in heart  
><em>_And you can begin a clean new start  
><em>_Oh to be of the purest of pure in his arms  
><em>_Yeah he, he will shield you from all harm_

- Brooke Waggoner, Wonder-Dummied

The rain came down with punishing force that late July night in Devon. Ensconced in his vintage pup tent, thirteen-year old Harry Potter could not sleep, for fear that the summer storm would obliterate his faltering shelter. Hogwarts and everything he knew felt so far away on that Southwest English campground. The Dursleys were safely snoozing in their nearby trailer, recently purchased with Vernon's holiday bonus. Although there was room for four in the luxury vehicle, Dudley, of course, took up the entire second double bed, leaving no room for Harry. On any other night, Harry might not have minded his exile to his great uncle's army tent by the fire pit, glistening black in the crepuscular downpour. But that night – the eve of Harry's birthday - was wet, cold and windy. He missed Hedwig, who he had sent to stay with Hermione for the duration of the mini-break, and he could not get his mind off the red-haired boy who had so cruelly broken his heart a few weeks prior.

Emotionally processing Sirius' abrupt arrival and departure had been taxing on Harry. And in that delicate state, he had let slip that he fancied his best mate. It had not gone over well. In addition to being straight as an arrow, Ron also turned out to be a grade A homophobe. Hermione had been more sympathetic. But Harry would be lying to himself if he said he did not notice how awkward things had become, even between them. Hermione certainly wasn't homophobic, but the rift between Harry and Ron seemed to have irrevocably damaged the trio's friendship. They barely spoke anymore. The whole ordeal made spending the summer at the Dursleys that much worse.

Just when Harry let down his guard in the tent and began to cry, a gale-force wind came up and lifted the tent off the ground, throwing Harry forwards. He knocked his forehead against the picnic table, which also ripped the tent into two unsalvageable pieces. Pulling himself together, Harry grabbed his wand and a damp grey blanket and headed off towards the cement building housing the showers and the loo.

Inside, the fluorescent lights wavered eerily as mosquitoes flitted suicidally close to the off-white tubes. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he took refuge from the storm in the empty shack. Looking himself in the mirror, Harry noticed that the cut on this forehead was bleeding. The sight of the cherry-red blood spilling over his pale skin pushed him to tears, once again, as he thought of how pathetic he looked. Of how pathetic he must have looked. To Ron.

Harry shook his head defiantly, willing his sobs to subside. It only made them worse. Still shivering, Harry took his blanket into the wheelchair stall and curled up in the corner against the wall. He rubbed his clammy hands together and blew warm air onto them, which quickly evanesced into the witchy night air. He wished he could use his wand. But after what had happened last summer with Aunt Marge, he could not risk another episode of underaged magic.

Stuck in a campground loo snivelling on the most miserable night of the summer…

"Some vacation," Harry whispered, if only to himself.

Suddenly, the door to the out-building creaked open. Harry held his breath. Must have been a camper who had ventured out into the rainy gloaming to take a piss. Whoever it was stepped slowly and calculatingly on the concrete floor, as if searching for something…or someone.

Harry's eyes grew wide. Uncle Vernon! Had Uncle Vernon actually noticed he had gone missing and come to fetch him? He'd be in for it now.

The steps stopped outside the stall door and the man tested the door to see if the toilet was occupied.

Harry decided it would be best to simply give himself up. He'd be in less trouble that way.

"I know you must be angry, Uncle Vernon, but please don't –"

Harry stopped in his tracks and snapped his mouth shut as he realized whom he was speaking to.

"Potter!" a familiar voice barked as onyx eyes settled on the sodden waif, "What are you doing all the way out here?"


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

"You're bleeding," Snape commented clinically, ignoring the absurdity of their chance meeting in the loo, before Harry had a chance to say anything.

Harry stood quietly while Snape reached up and touched his forehead, still in shock at seeing the Potions Master in a muggle campground in Devon. In the loo, of all places! Even more shocking was the fact that Professor Snape had foregone his billowing black robes that evening, instead wearing navy track-paints and a charcoal sweatshirt.

Snape muttered a healing spell, then cleaned up the remaining blood with a flick of his wand.

Harry hazarded a glance up at the Potions Master.

"F-f-fancy seeing you here, Professor," he attempted to sound half-normal, as he quickly moved to dry his tears.

Snape ignored this audacious interlude, his eyes shifting to the blanket Harry had left in the corner of the stall.

"Potter," he began with a menacing softness, knitting his eyebrows, "Kindly explain yourself so I can get on with my evening. Why are you squatting in a loo, in Devon, instead of in your posh quarters in Surrey?"

"Did Dumbledore send you?" Harry asked, putting the pieces together as he ignored the question posed to him, "Or did you just happen to be here?"

Snape looked slightly bemused as he spat, "Did I just happen to be here? What do you think, Potter? Do I look like the sort of wizard who would spend his summers camping amongst muggles?"

"No sir," Harry looked down, chuckling to himself, "Sorry you had to come here to check on me. I should have let somebody know I was leaving Privet Drive for a spell."

"Enough silliness," Snape chided, looking Harry up and down, "Why are you sleeping in a bathroom stall?"

"Well, it's a long story, Professor," Harry swallowed, feeling more like himself, "The Dursleys are here with me. Camping, like. Except I was the one in the tent and it blew away in the storm, sir. So I came in here because it was dry."

Snape narrowed his eyes as if to ascertain if Harry were lying.

"What do you mean, 'you were the one in the tent'? Where is the rest of your family?"

"Oh! Sorry, forgot to explain that bit. They're in their trailer. There wasn't enough room for me so Uncle Vernon let me use his father's tent."

Snape nodded slowly, analyzing each bit of information as it came to him. It certainly seemed plausible…so far.

"Where is this tent?"

"It's at our campsite, sir."

"Lead me to it."

"But, Professor –"

"Lead me to it, Potter. Dumbledore will have my hide if I let you spend the night in the loo like a vagabond. Though Merlin knows you need a good dose of humility."

Glowering, Harry led Snape out into the cold, dark night.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

"Idiot boy!" yelled Severus over the howling wind as he finished magically mending the army tent, "Why would you choose to sleep out under the stars on a night like this?"

"Not enough room!" Harry responded nonchalantly, inspecting his professor's work, "It only sleeps three. The trailer, I mean."

"Why didn't you wake your family once the storm started? Surely they wouldn't want their beloved nephew to brave the elements," Snape posed the question silkily, joining Harry under a nearby willow tree.

"I really don't think my aunt and uncle would appreciate that, sir," Harry stated in a neutral tone, looking away.

"So you decide to rely on your minion of a Potions Master instead?" Snape spat caustically.

"I meant to thank you, sir, for fixing my tent for me," Harry bit out, trying not to show how much the older wizard's comments offended him, "I'm sorry you had to come all this way."

Severus regarded him quietly for a moment, then left to inspect the tent once more, making sure it was properly pegged into the ground in a muggle-fashion.

"You know, Potter, it really is a pathetic excuse for a tent – even mended," Snape commented derisively upon his return under the willow tree, "Next time, BEFORE you go camping, you might think to drag your aunt and uncle out to the hardware shop and whinge until they buy you a model built in the latter part of the twentieth century."

"Yes, sir," Harry shook his head at the ludicrous idea.

Snape caught this unbelieving look and added, "Potter, please tell me that your sleeping bag wasn't also used in the Second World War."

"Er…" Harry began. Snape brushed him off, clearly annoyed, as he whisked over the unzipped the fly to the tent.

Harry heard a long string of expletives issue from inside his tent. Nervously, he made his way over to the tent's opening.

"POTTER!" Severus exclaimed angrily, "There isn't a spell in the history of magic that's going to get you out of this mess. You haven't even got a pillow."

"Yeah, that's my fault," Harry admitted sheepishly, "I forgot mine. I've just been using my sweater as a pillow, sir. It's fine, really."

"A warming charm will have to do," he heard Snape mutter under his breath, "Dumbledore will have my arse."

"I'm sure it will be fine, sir," Harry tried to reassure his professor in earnest, "I mean, I slept in a cupboard for the first eleven years of my life and he never said anything."

Severus whipped his head around and looked at Harry like he had five heads, but didn't comment.

"Where is your bloody owl?" Snape asked a moment later, evidently losing his patience.

"Hedwig is staying with Hermione while I'm on vacation," Harry remarked, "I couldn't bring her. The campground doesn't allow pets."

"How long will you stay…on this vacation?" Severus queried, appearing as if he were calculating some mathematical equation in his head.

"The Dursleys want to stay until mid-August, professor."

Snape opened his mouth, as if to make a caustic comment, and then snapped it shut again.

"Well. That does pose a problem, doesn't it?"

"Sorry, sir? I don't understand," Harry appeared genuinely confused.

"Professor Dumbledore feels apprehensive about your being away from the blood wards for so long. I'm not sure they would transfer to this location…given your current sleeping arrangement. And, seeing as Professor Dumbledore has tasked me with ensuring your safety while you are away from Privet Drive, I'm afraid I have no choice."

"Please don't tell me you're going to stay in this tent with me!" Harry looked horrified, "It's small enough as it is!"

"Stupid boy! No. You are to write me at least once a week to let me know that you are still alive. That is all. After the escapades you've survived so far, the least you can manage for me is that. I want to spend my summer in peace, preferably Potter-free."

"But how shall I write you, sir? My owl…"

Severus reached in his bag and pulled out a leather-bound book redolent of Hogwarts, thrusting it into Harry's small hands.

"A two-way journal. Each time either of us writes in it, the other will receive the message."

"Oh. Kind of like e-mail?"

"E-mail?" grunted Snape, "Let me guess, some muggle invention."

Harry nodded, taking the journal and wrapping it in his sweater.

"I'll take good care of it," he said softly, stifling a yawn.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I see it's past your bedtime," Severus smirked at the sleepy Potter.

Harry cast him an insulted look.

"Manners, Potter. Fourteen-year old boys don't pout," Snape remarked wryly as he slipped out of the tent and into the August night.

Harry looked down at his glow-in-the-dark watch. It was two minutes after midnight.


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

6 August 1994

_I'm still alive._

* * *

><p>6 August 1994<p>

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_While I daresay I am grateful for the brevity of your recent missive, it hardly constitutes a proper letter. Nothing I can go to the bank with (i.e. Professor Dumbledore) in any case. When he inquires about you (and he will), I will need details, boy! Don't make me come down there to watch over you like a baby brat. Neither of us wants that to happen; I'm sure you'll agree._

_Professor S. Snape_

* * *

><p>7 August 1994<p>

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I didn't realize you wanted me to write you an entire letter. Sorry. _

_You can tell Dumbledore, that in addition to still being the "Boy-Who-Lived", I had a rather uneventful week. Spent most of it in my tent (dreadful weather), which is still holding up, by the way, thanks to you. The Dursleys picked the absolute worst few weeks of the summer to go camping. Dudley (my cousin) threw a fit yesterday because the campground wading pool was closed on account of thunder and lightning. Can't say I blame him, though at least he gets to watch the telly in the camper. There is nothing to do here! Oh well, I know I shouldn't complain._

_Hopefully this helps,_

_Harry Potter_

* * *

><p>7 August 1994<p>

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_**Professor **__Dumbledore will be most displeased to hear that you've been making such poor use of your free time. You should have brought your schoolbooks along, unless of course you've already finished your summer readings, which I find highly unlikely._

_Nevertheless, your latter correspondence is an improvement from the former._

_Professor S. Snape_

* * *

><p>8 August 1994<p>

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I know it's not been a week. But I just wanted to tell you that I can't do my summer readings. My uncle has my schoolbooks all locked up back in Surrey._

_Harry Potter_

* * *

><p>8 August 1994<p>

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_It would be a mediocre wizard indeed who could not manage a simple "Alohomora" in such a dire circumstance. _

_Professor S. Snape_

* * *

><p>8 August 1994<p>

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_With all due respect sir, it would be a badly informed professor indeed who did not know that by performing such a stunt, I would find myself, once more, in trouble with the law for performing underage magic._

_Harry Potter_

* * *

><p>9 August 1994<p>

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I do not err very often in my pronouncements, but on this particular count__, I stand corrected._

_Why did you not owl Weasley or Granger for a loan before you left Surrey? _

_Professor S. Snape_

* * *

><p>9 August 1994<p>

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I am afraid I am not on speaking terms with Ron or Hermione at the moment. _

_I will try my best to catch up the first week back at school._

_Harry Potter_

* * *

><p>9 August 1994<p>

_Having a tiff with your two 'bestest' sycophants, are you? _

_A likely story._

_Catch up your first week back at school, Potter? _

_DO NOT lie to me._

_As much as I have been ruing the day I would have to return to Devon to wait on you like an indentured servant, I will be reuniting you with your schoolbooks very shortly._


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

"Potter, why is it that every time I pay you a visit, you're a mess of tears and blood?" Snape made his presence known to the young raven-haired teenager, who was sitting at a lone picnic table overlooking the Devonian countryside.

Harry flinched upon hearing the older wizard speak. He had thought he was alone with his thoughts.

"I don't know," Harry managed, quickly wiping his tears away with his bare arm, "Sir."

"What happened to your leg?" Severus asked in a matter-of-fact manner, gesturing to the gory wound on the boy's shin.

"I fell, professor."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Dudley had pushed him on the wading pool deck earlier that day whilst calling him a "Freaky Faggot" and Harry had fallen forwards onto the unyielding concrete.

"Potter, if I didn't know any better, I would say you were an incorrigible klutz," Snape began silkily, kneeling down to tend to Harry's leg, "But I've seen you on a broom. You might be hopeless at Potions, but I would be daft to deny your kinaesthetic prowess."

Harry blushed at the compliment but then realized Severus was indirectly calling him a liar.

"Flying and running are two different sports, sir," Harry said quietly, "You'd be quite right to call me a klutz. I trip a lot…when I'm walking around."

After healing Harry's scraped shin, Severus sat down across from him at the picnic table.

Harry tried hard to control the redness that was overwhelming his countenance as Snape regarded him strangely for a moment, his black eyes glittering.

"I've been to Surrey," Severus intoned softly, "I've brought back your schoolbooks for you."

"You…you went to Privet Drive?" Harry stared at the older wizard unbelievingly, "You were in my bedroom?"

"The interior decorating…of that particular room… left something to be desired," Snape sneered, "Is it customary for muggles to outfit second story windows with bars?"

Harry ignored the last statement.

"Well, thank you for getting my schoolbooks for me," the boy offered his professor a shy smile, "I'll hide them in my sleeping bag during the day so –"

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Potter," Severus' eyes glinted, "I've brought them in a bag with an undetectable extension charm."

His curiosity piqued, Harry watched as Snape retrieved a navy fanny pack from his own bag and offered it to him.

"A survival kit for the Boy-Who-Lived," Severus smirked as Harry stifled a laugh, "Go on. Open it."

Along with his own set of schoolbooks, Harry was surprised to find a full-sized pillow and a package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"The candy is compliments of the headmaster," Snape answered the question apparent on Harry's face, "What that man was thinking when he sent those for you, I have no idea. He's obviously never been camping. Eat or dispose of them before sundown tonight, or otherwise you might find yourself with some rabid company in that tent of yours'"

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Harry said sincerely, making eye contact with Severus, "I never expected you to bring my pillow. But you did. And it's brilliant."

Lost for words, Snape nodded tersely, silently acknowledging Harry's thanks. He had never expected the brat to be so grateful, let alone call anything he did brilliant.

"All right then, Potter?" Severus eyed Harry intently; the boy's eyes were still red from crying.

Shocked at Snape's reticent concern, Harry looked up at the older wizard with bewilderment.

"I'm fine, thank you, sir," he replied politely, quickly looking away when his eyes met with Snape's unreadable expression.

"You pathological liar," Severus snorted softly, "What am I going to do with you, Potter?"

"I…I… don't know what you mean, sir," Harry bit his lip nervously.

"You play the simple schoolboy well, Potter," Snape sneered, "I know I'm as indelicate as they come, but for pity's sake, tell me what's the matter, boy!"

"I already did, sir, " Harry fumed, "You're well aware that my 'two bestest sycophants' want nothing to do with me anymore. Do you have any idea what it's like to spend a whole summer alone with no one to talk to?"

"Am I 'no one', Potter?" Severus snapped, "Are you sitting at this picnic table alone?"

"No, professor," Harry admitted cautiously, "You're somebody and…right now… I'm not alone."

"Correct, Mr. Potter," Snape leaned across the table to look Harry in the eyes, his voice low and dangerous, "You are not alone. And you'd do well not to forget it."


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX**

Back at Spinner's End after a long day, Severus Snape _accio_ed a decanter of scotch from his kitchen cupboard and set to numbing his senses. Rarely did Severus imbibe alcoholic beverages, but when he did, it was usually on account of the Potter boy, or the memory of his buxom ginger mother with the apple green eyes. Tonight, however, he drank to Harry, that baffling brat, who, as of late, had taken to bawling and bleeding in a way that disquieted Severus. His visit to the townhouse on Privet Drive had done nothing to assuage his newfound apprehension surrounding the boy's upbringing. If his sleeping quarters were any indication, Potter was certainly not the spoiled prince Severus had assumed him to be. That title appeared to belong to Potter's piggish cousin, who was, most likely, currently stuffing his face watching the telly in the camper, while Potter laid in exile in that pitiable tent, a mere four feet away. And yet a world away, Severus thought, quaffing down the golden brown liquid. If what Potter had told him was true, his family evidently held him in contempt for being a wizard. Severus had no patience for such ignorant attitudes, especially coming from Lily's relatives, even if they were directed at Potter spawn. Glowering, Severus stoked the embers in his stone fireplace. What a tangled web they weaved.

Severus glanced at the two-way journal sitting on the coffee table under a pile of potions texts, and noticed it was flashing red, signalling a new message. Scowling at what Potter could want at this hour, Snape grabbed the slim tome and sat down to read it in his grey wingback chair.

_ Dear Professor Snape,_

_ I just wanted to write you to thank you again for bringing my schoolbooks to Devon. I'm sorry for being such a wreck every time you've seen me lately. I'm going through kind of a rough patch right now. It's hard to explain. Nothing to worry Dumbledore about, though! Don't worry._

_ Harry_

Snape blinked a few times in disbelief. Never had Potter shown him such civility or written to him with such candour. He also could not help but notice that the boy had omitted his last name from his signature. What was Potter playing at? "Don't worry" the boy had written, yet the words bled blue onto the page, as if steeped in tears. Had the boy been crying while writing the letter? Snape frowned.

His senses dulled by the copious amount of liquor he had consumed, Snape took a quill and began to compose an impromptu reply.

_Potter,_

_ You had better not be sitting in your tent crying like some teenaged emo goth so help me God._

_ SS_

Severus smirked as he signed his initials with a flourish. That would teach the brat to try to weasel his way into his affections. Snape was shocked to see that the boy replied within moments. Rolling his eyes, he swiped the journal from his footrest.

_ Snape,_

_ I give up. I tried to be nice since you've been almost kind to me lately. I shouldn't have fooled myself into thinking you actually cared if I lived or died. You have no idea what I've been through. If you must know, my two "bestest sycophants" and I aren't getting along right now because I told them I am gay. Hermione agreed to take Hedwig while I'm in Devon on the condition that I give her and Ron some space. Dudley also continually tries to make my life hell for the same reason. There, I said it. Now you'll never let me live it down. _

_ I have feelings. So crucify me. _

_ HP_

That wiped the smirk off Severus' face. Potter was gay? Snape tried to process it all through his self-imposed mental fog. The impudence of the boy's reply paled next to this unexpected revelation. He was not sure what he would say to the boy, but he had to respond. How dare he suggest he would mock his sexuality! Overwrought killjoy.

_ Dear Mr. Potter,_

_ Watch your tone in your correspondence with me. Need I remind you that I am not a kind man? I may not be able to take points from Gryffindor during the summer holidays but rest assured that you will pay at start of term. _

_ I am deeply insulted that you would assume I share the same ignorant views of homosexuality as your idiot peers. I do not tolerate such hateful behaviour from anyone, even if you are the victim, Potter._

_ Go cry yourself to sleep now, if you must. Rest assured that I will be by in the morning._

_ Professor S. Snape_


	7. Chapter 7

**SEVEN**

Harry Hunting began at eight thirty sharp the next morning, around the same time Severus woke up with a slight hangover back at Spinner's End. By ten o'clock, a bruised and breathless Potter found himself drowning in the campground swimming pool, as Dudley held him under water to show off to his newfound friends, muggle versions of Crabbe and Goyle. They had long since confiscated his wand, and the two louts were making a mockery of wizardry on the pool deck, taking turns squealing nonsensical and nonexistent spells.

"Wretched squibs," Snape muttered to himself as he gained access to the premises, just before he realized the danger that Harry was in. The feeling that overcame him was at once instantaneous and portentous when he heard Potter scream. At first, he couldn't see from where the boy had cried. In short order, he saw that Harry was floundering anew under the aquamarine water of the wading pool, being held down by his corpulent cousin.

Drawing his wand instinctively, Snape wasted no time in casting a body-bind curse on the portly perpetrator. While the Dursley boy summarily fell to the ground, he noticed Potter had stopped struggling and had failed to surface. Without another thought, Severus leapt into the pool to the drowning boy's aid. Roughly pulling Harry into his arms, Snape brought him to the side of the pool and rushed to unblock his airways with the _anapneo _spell.

"Breathe, Potter, breathe!" Severus implored him afterwards, his large hands gripping the boy's thin shoulders. Drenched and battered, the young man lying before him seemed abnormally small for this age – his baggy clothing now flush with his pale skin. Snape was quick to turn him on his side when the pitiful boy began to spit up chlorinated water. Harry could not yet see who was holding him as he finally caught his breath, his cheek pressed to the concrete.

"Snape?" Harry acknowledged him as he sat up slowly, blinking his green eyes under the hot summer sun.

Severus said nothing as he reached out and touched the boy's bruised face, uttering a healing spell. Seething with anger, he turned to the recumbent figure of Dudley Dursley. Terror was evident in the boy's glazed-over eyes as the black-haired wizard hovered over him.

"If you ever –" he began dangerously, his hand to the muggle boy's thick neck, "Lay a finger on your cousin again – I…will...kill…you. Make no mistake."

Rennervating the chubby boy, Snape was not surprised to see him scamper off to join his idiotic sidekicks, who were currently making themselves dizzy on the playground roundabout.

"My wand!" Harry cried, remembering his disarmament, "Professor, they took my wand!"

"_Accio_ Harry Potter's wand," Snape remedied the situation, recalling the wand from the other side of the pool, where the wayward scoundrels had left it.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said quietly, accepting the wand from his professor, "You had to save me again. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Snape snorted, "Whatever for, you foolish boy? Are you sorry to be alive?"

"No, no…not really. I mean, of course not! I'm just sorry I needed saving, is all," Harry scrambled to explain what he had meant by his queer apology, "I know what you really wanted was to spend your summer in peace, and instead you're having to come check on me all the time."

"While your concern for my lack of free time is touching, Potter, it is not necessary," Severus rolled his eyes, "Believe it or not, I am simply grateful that I am having this bothersome conversation with you, rather than having to explain to Professor Dumbledore why it is you're in the morgue."

"Really?" Harry could not help but to give his professor a shy smile after this admission.

"Contrary to what you may think Potter, I have a vested interest in your wellbeing. I _do_ happen to care whether you live or die, however strange that might seem to you," Snape's withering tone masked the import of this statement, "I may be labouring under a misapprehension here, but it would appear to me, Potter, that this is not the first time you have been bullied in such a manner. Am I correct?"

Humiliated, Harry blushed and hugged his knees to his chest.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a seat next to Harry on the concrete, "Is it because they don't like that you're a wizard?"

Harry nodded, "And because…" he began softly, "Because…because I'm gay."

"I thought as much," Snape growled, startling the boy next to him.

"You're the only one…" Harry whispered almost inaudibly.

"The only one – what?" Snape snapped, misplaced ire still boiling over from the pool incident.

"You don't care that…." the boy tried to explain, but Severus caught his meaning.

"Well, why should I? Your cousin and Weasley both have another thing coming if they think they'll find an ally in me on that count. I must say though, your father would be turning over in this grave."

"My dad hated gay people?" Harry looked at Snape with frightened eyes, as if he were in danger of being haunted by his homophobic father. Severus had regretted it, as soon as he said it. Damn, did the boy ever look crestfallen! It took all his strength not to temper the child's suffering with something other than hollow words.

"No," Snape said softly, "He wouldn't hate you, Harry."


	8. Chapter 8

**EIGHT**

"So will you be heading back home straight away then?" Harry inquired of Snape, who was still sitting next to him on the pool deck, squinting his onyx eyes in the late morning sun.

"Not this time, Potter. Professor Dumbledore would insist that I be convinced of your safety before my departure. And needless to say I have yet to be convinced," Severus explained matter-of-factly.

"I'll be all right, sir, really! You needn't hang around. I know you want to get going," Harry tried to reason with him, not wanting him to witness the fallout of his confrontation with Dudley. He was ashamed of his relatives and did not want a Hogwarts professor to have to bear witness to their ignorance and inhumanity any longer than necessary.

"Nice try, Potter, but I won't be taking my leave just yet," Snape responded dryly, standing up and casting a drying charm on them both, "I don't know about you, Potter, but I'm famished. Is there anywhere a wizard can get a bite to eat around here?"

"Well," Harry thought for a moment, "There's an ice cream van across the away, but it's muggle-run."

"That will have to do," Severus sighed, leading the way, "Come along, Potter."

"But sir!" Harry ran to catch up with his professor, "I'm sorry but I haven't got any muggle money on me."

"Stupid boy!" Snape sniffed, "Didn't you learn anything in transfiguration? Obviously, you are unable to cast the charm, being underage, but I fully able."

"Actually sir…" Harry's cheeks reddened, "I don't have any money on me, and I'd really rather you didn't transfigure my shorts."

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter. I have no desire to deprive you of your pitiable attire, I assure you," Severus chided, looking over at the boy walking next to him, "It's on me."

"Thank you, professor. I'll pay you back, I promise."

"You will not."

"No, but I will! I'm good for it."

"No," Snape said firmly, approaching the ice cream van, "Tell me, Potter, what flavour do you fancy?"

"Er –" Harry pretended to hesitate, even though he knew exactly what he wanted already, "I'll have vanilla, please, sir."

"Vanilla?" Severus smirked, "Really, Potter? Of all these whimsical flavours you could choose to sate your appetite, you're choosing vanilla? "

"Yes, sir," Harry looked down at the ground, "It's the only kind I've…grown accustomed to."

Snape rolled his eyes, "That's a rather strange way of putting it, Potter. If I didn't know you any better, I would think that it's the only flavour you've ever tasted."

Harry blushed. That _was_ the case.

"What flavour is the green?" Severus asked the young ice cream van worker.

"Mint chocolate chip, sir," the young man answered, "Would like me to dip you and the lad a cone?"

"We'll take two small vanilla cones," Snape surprised Harry by choosing the same flavour he had just finished mocking.

"It just so happens, Potter," Severus eyed him amusedly, "That vanilla is the only flavour of ice cream I can stomach."

"Really?" Harry's eyes twinkled mischievously, "I guess we're rather alike, sir… at least when it comes to that."

"'At least when it comes to that' being the operative part of that ill-conceived phrase," Snape wryly dashed Harry's hopes of finding common ground with the Potions Master.

"Here," Severus thrust a £20 note into the ice cream man's hand, "Keep the change."

"Professor Snape…that was twenty quid!" Harry laughed, "Do you have any idea how big of a tip you just gave him?"

"None whatsoever," Snape replied disinterestedly, taking a seat at a nearby picnic table, "Nor do I care. It cost me but a sickle."

Harry sat down across from him and licked his ice cream, which was already starting to melt in the midday heat.

The two sat in nearly companionable silence for the next ten minutes, taking in the sights and sounds around them. Dudley and his sidekicks had disappeared. A young father and his toddler son were now playing in the wading pool. Harry looked over at the pair wistfully. When he turned back to look at Snape, he noticed the dour man was already scrutinizing him with an unreadable look.

"Eat the rest of that Potter, or I'll eat it for you," Severus frowned.

"I'm not hungry."

"You should be. You're skin and bones. Finish your ice cream, Potter."

Harry conceded and finished off the cone.

"What time is it sir?" Harry stood up suddenly, remembering he was supposed to cook lunch for the Dursleys.

"It's a quarter past twelve. What's come over you, Potter? Do you have somewhere you need to be?" Snape said sarcastically, as if the idea of Harry having to be anywhere when he was on vacation was ludicrous.

"I'm late for lunch, sir," Harry panicked, "My aunt and uncle –"

"Can surely survive your absence for another moment or two."

"No, sir! You don't understand. I'm already late. I have to go, now! They'll-"

Strong hands on his quaking shoulders stilled him.

"Potter," Severus began, peering down into Harry's frightened green eyes, "I believe you and I need to have a little talk."


	9. Chapter 9

**NINE**

"Come, Potter," Severus spoke quietly, "Sit. Tell me what it is that has you so troubled."

Looking back over his shoulder, Harry reluctantly took a seat next to the Potions Master.

"It's nothing, sir. It's just my aunt and uncle….they get really….annoyed….when I'm not on time for things. You know me, professor. I'm never on time. For anything."

"You do happen to possess an inveterate tendency for tardiness, yes," Snape nodded his head, "But I wonder who it is you're truly afraid of being late for. Is it Black? Has he contacted you, threatened you, in any way?"

"Sirius?" Harry looked over at Snape, surprised and insulted, "No, of course not! Of course he hasn't threatened me! He's my godfather. I know you don't want to believe he's innocent, but it's true!"

"Calm down, Potter. It was a simple question. I did not mean to imply –"

"If you would have had it your way, he'd be dead right now. I think I have the right to be a little upset."

"Potter, it may surprise you to hear that I _do_ acknowledge that circumstances have changed since you discovered Pettigrew is still alive. And as loath as I am to admit it, Black is an innocent man. I DO NOT wish him dead. Nonetheless, I am also aware that Black has a history of harassing others, both physically and otherwise. I thought it prudent, therefore, to ask you if you had been the subject of such hostile behaviour. You say you have not. And…I believe you."

Harry let out a big sigh and put his head down, pulling at his messy hair.

"You know, he promised me I could come live with him. I was so happy, just thinking about it. For the first time in my life, to have someone who –" the boy stopped midsentence and looked up at Snape, who was looking down at him with a baffled look, "Sorry. Listen, I am really late for lunch and the Dursleys, well, they're going to be right brassed off with me."

"We'd best be on our way, then," Severus conceded, standing up, "What's for lunch?"

"What do you mean 'we'?" Harry sounded alarmed. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I'm coming with you, Mr. Potter. Surely your aunt and uncle can accommodate a guest. They need only give me one of your cousin's servings, as fat as he is, he could stand to do without a fifth wiener or a second bag of marshmallows."

Harry snorted in amusement. He found himself relishing the fact that it appeared he and Snape had made a mutual enemy.

"Right then. We best head over there. I'm warning you though, it's going to be awhile until we tuck into the bannock. I'm the one cooking."

Snape's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You're cooking, Potter? YOU? Do you even know how to without magic? And bannock yet? You've got to be kidding me."

"Of course I know how to cook without magic. I didn't even know I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday. Why are you so surprised?"

"You're a fourteen year old boy, Potter. And from what little I've seen of your potion-making abilities…or lack thereof…_WAIT_ just a moment….you say you didn't know…" Severus trailed off as the Dursleys' campsite came into plain view.

Dudley was rolling on the ground bellyaching as if he were near death from starvation.

"MUM! DAD! I'M HUNGRY! WHERE IS HARRY?"

"I don't know where he is son, but when he returns, that_** freak**_ is going to wish he was never born!" Vernon bellowed, pounding his fists on the picnic table, "Ungrateful fairy. Mark my words…"

Severus' jaw dropped. He had suspected that Harry's relatives were less than thrilled that he was magical, but he never would have imagined that the boy had been subject to this degree of degradation.

"There he is, daddy! There's Harry…he's with that other freak who threatened to kill me this morning!" Dudley squealed, standing up.

Vernon lumbered over to them, ire emanating from every pore of his red, plump body.

"You're going to pay for your freakishness, boy!" he threatened, grabbing Harry by the front of his baggy t-shirt, "You're lucky we even allowed you to come with us on vacation. We allowed you to come on two conditions – that you cook us every meal and NO FREAKISHNESS. You broke the rules, and now you're going to be punished before we're rid of you."

Speechless, Snape's eyes widened as Vernon began to take off his belt.

"Please, Uncle Vernon, no! I promise, from now on…."

"INCARCEROUS!" Severus uttered in a deadly voice, taking out Vernon just as he raised the belt in the air to whip Harry.

"Mum! Mum! Get out here! Harry's freak friend just tied up dad like he did to me this morning!"

"LANGLOCK! INCARCEROUS!" Snape shut up Dudley and tied him up for the second time that day.

"YOU!" Petunia Dursley screeched as she recognized Snape, running out of the camper with her hair in curlers, "How dare you come here? You're freaks! The lot of you! Just like my sister!"

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" Severus intoned, his eyes wild until they came to rest on Harry, who trembled in fear next to him.

Green eyes found the black. Harry saw something stirring in those bituminous depths that threatened to overwhelm him with its mystery. Severus held his gaze, determined not to look away.

Weak and lost for words, Harry went to fall to the ground but Snape caught him on the way down, pressing the shocked boy snuggly against his broad chest.

"Hold on tightly, now," Severus whispered, "I'm going to apparate us away from here."


End file.
